Savior
by Fair Lady Miriel
Summary: Companion piece to Sorrow and Rapture, 1 chapter. Paris helps Achilles to stop cutting by opening the man's eyes. SLASH, SELF ABUSE. Rating to be safe.


Hey guys! I just wanted to thank all of you for your reviews on all of my stories. It really means a lot to me that you like my writing.

This is a companion piece to Sorrow and Rapture. I mentioned briefly that Achilles had cut himself and Paris had helped him stop. Here is that exact scene.

This is about 2 months after they share their first kiss.

Please review and enjoy.

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Paris stood by the entrance of the tent, feeling the cool breeze brush against his neck. He peered in, watching Achilles warily. The warrior was fingering a small dagger, running his long fingers along the blade. Paris walked in silently and stood behind the other man. He knelt and looked Achilles in the eye. The Trojan gently took the dagger from Achilles' grasp.

The blue eyes were empty and lonely, radiating sorrow and forlornness. Paris brought up a hand the stroke the soft skin of Achilles' cheek, and whispered, "Please don't do this anymore."

Achilles looked to the ground. "How long have you known?" he asked, his voice low.

Paris shook his head. "Do you not know that I see you at night, Achilles? When I am not by your side I watch you sleep, wanting to see your face. I see tears and utter self loathing. I...I see you pick up this dagger," Paris held up the small knife and then continued, "and you think you can dull your inner pain by using it on yourself."

The younger man took hold of Achilles' left forearm, turning the limb over and tenderly brushed his slender hand over the long, spidery scars. Some were new, others old and fading. Achilles hissed softly when Paris' hand brushed a recent cut. Paris apologized softly and pressed his lips to the sore gash.

"But I know what you think," Paris went on, and wrapped his arms around the trembling warrior, "you think that you deserve the pain."

Achilles sighed heavily. "I have killed so many innocent men," he whispered, his voice shaking. "I have killed so many sons, brothers, lovers...and everyone says it is my gift. That I was meant to kill ruthlessly. They do not know that this 'gift' is my curse and will be my downfall." Achilles leaned against Paris' warm body, relishing the comfort that the former prince so willingly gave.

"They underestimate you. Yes, you are a blessing to them in this war, but if they would get to know your soul, they would know the burden that resides there. Your guilt is strong, but it is said this is your destiny," Paris said in a calming voice. He gently rubbed circles on Achilles' chest, hoping to soothe the broken man.

"You also feel guilt for Patroclus' death. Do not feel sorrow for something that you could not have controlled. He would have gone and fought even if you tried to stop him."

Achilles buried his face in Paris' chest, tremors raging through his body. Even though he had strong feelings for Paris, speaking of Patroclus pained him.

"Achilles, you do not need to feel pain to have control. You do not need to punish yourself for something that is meant to be. Have peace with yourself in knowing that you have captured something without force."

Achilles lifted his head up and gazed into Paris' compassionate brown eyes. "And what would that be?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

"My heart," Paris whispered into Achilles' ear, and sweetly kissed the man's forehead. "And it breaks my heart to see your blood needlessly running down your arms and tears running down your face."

Paris' words brushed warmly against Achilles cheek and filled the blonde man with a sense of love from the Trojan. Paris' words made sense, and as much as the urge to cut himself would be strong at times, he would resist it for his lover.

"Come," Paris said softly, and lay down on the pile of furs that they had been sitting on. "I will guard your dreams this night." He gently pulled Achilles' form atop of his, cradling the warrior in his arms.

Achilles reclined into Paris' warm body, relaxing for the first time he had in days. He felt safe with the younger man and kissed Paris' silky collarbone in gratitude. He felt Paris' hand thread through his mussed golden hair, massaging the scalp sensually.

"Sleep," Paris whispered into the long tresses. "For you are never alone."

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Please review.


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